Death and Coming Back
by HavenKane
Summary: In the summer after Harry's 5th year Privet Drive is attacked. No one survived, but as a very wise man once said death is but the next great adventure.
1. Coming to an End

I don't own Harry Potter.  
  
A/N New story! It changes POV several time, but it should all work out fine. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Coming to an End  
  
It had been five years to the day since Harry Potter had been introduced to a hidden world of wizardry. Since that day he had lived a life of never ceasing adventure, but all good things must come to an end.  
  
Harry stood tall upon the smoldering slab where number four used to sit. Twenty black-robed figures closed ranks around him as he stared blank faced at the bane of his existence. Voldemort raised his wand with a sneer and hissed a simple 'finally' before performing the killing curse and watching his prey fall in a lifeless heap at his feet.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Severus Snape ran up the moving staircase and burst into the headmaster's office. Running and bursting were not normal for the potions master, but these were special circumstances. The Dark Lord had just given him information that the headmaster would need immediately.  
  
"Albus," he said quietly, trying to call the wizard's attention away from the open window.  
  
Albus Dumbledore didn't turn to greet his guest. He didn't flash his jovial smile or offer the lemon drop he knew would be refused. The only indication Snape was given that his entrance had even been heard, was the quiet shaking answer that the older man gave.  
  
"I know," he stated simply.  
  
"I'm sorry, Albus." Snape had never like Harry Potter, but he was very aware of what the boy had meant to his mentor, and to the world.  
  
Silence passed between them for a long moment. Dumbledore turned to walk to his desk, and Snape witnessed a sight he never thought he would see. Snape didn't allow himself many illusions. He wasn't naive by any means, but he never thought he would ever see this man so broken.  
  
"Would you please do me a favor, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his red- rimmed eyes pulling at the potions master's very soul.  
  
"Of course, Albus," he said immediately.  
  
"Please take this letter to the address on the front and instruct Miss Granger to take the port-key she will find inside to The Burrow in one hour. She will be spending the rest of the summer there."  
  
Snape nodded and stood, hesitating only a moment before turning and walking out the door. He disliked the lack of words he had to comfort his friend.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The living room of The Burrow was full to bursting. Everyone including Fred was laughing as Bill held him flat against the ceiling. Fred, surprisingly, had done nothing to provoke the attack. George on the other hand had thought things were getting a bit dull, and Bill had ended up with a rather walrus-like set of whiskers. It had taken Bill nearly five minutes to realize what everyone was snickering about, which was about how long Fred had been on the ceiling now.  
  
George listened to his oldest brother lecturing his twin. He knew Fred didn't mind taking the heat for it. As a matter of fact he was fairly sure that this would make them even, though he wasn't certain, as they didn't keep an exact count.  
  
Everybody had been called home about an hour ago. The only person yet to make it was Mr. Weasley. Hermione Granger had even shown up a few minutes ago.  
  
Hermione had received the shock of her life. She had been sitting in her living room folding her laundry and catching up with an old friend over the telephone when there was a knock at the door. She excused herself from the conversation and opened the door to reveal her potions professor. After receiving proof that he was who he claimed to be, she read the letter, wrote a note to her parents, gathered her things, and caught the port-key to The Burrow.  
  
Arthur Weasley appeared in his own kitchen and steeled himself for the coming conversation. None of them were going to take this well. He wasn't even taking the news well, but he needed to be strong for his family.  
  
He entered the living room and smiled bleakly. There was never a lack of entertainment in this house, but Mr. Weasley dreaded the sight of this room in a half-hour.  
  
He ordered Bill to let whichever twin had gotten the better of him down from the ceiling, and removed his son's whiskers. Just as Mrs. Weasley came down stairs from arranging a place for Hermione in Ginny's room, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the room with a soft 'pop'.  
  
Dumbledore stood in front of the hearth. He looked out across the sea of red hair, save Hermione's sandy brown sheet of curls. He surveyed the bright happy faces, save for Mr. Weasley's solemn expression, and he began to speak.  
  
"I can't imagine any way for news such as this to be sugar coated, but even if I could I would not insult you nor the subject of my tale by doing so. So please forgive an old man should he be too blunt." The room was so silent it was hard to tell if anyone of them even drew breath. "Privet Drive was attacked by Voldemort himself in the middle of the night." No one even flinched at the name, as they were busy contemplating the effects such an event would reap. "He left no survivors. Harry Potter is dead."  
  
Time seemed to have halted, and the soft crackling of the fire seemed suddenly deafening, as it was the only source of sound in the room.  
  
Ron slowly rose to his feet, startling the room out of their daze. Each step he took seemed to take immense effort. He opened the front door and exited, leaving the door open behind him. Mrs. Weasley turned and began to sob into her husband's shoulder. Hermione stood and followed her friend out the door. Ginny hadn't moved at all since Dumbledore had stopped speaking. She sat in the same position, her mouth slightly open. The only changes that made themselves evident were the tears that had fallen down her face, and were now dripping from her chin.  
  
"We can fix this," Fred said after a few minutes, jumping out of his chair, and calling the attention of everyone in the room. "It'll be okay. We can fix this."  
  
"Stop," George said quietly, walking slowly in the direction of his twin.  
  
"But all we would have to," Fred started.  
  
"We can't," George choked out as the entire room stared on.  
  
"We have to bring him back, George. He can't just." tears built up in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face at any moment.  
  
"Fred," George said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder as the shaking teen sank down the wall.  
  
"He can't." he tried again before shaking sobs removed all chances of him speaking.  
  
"I should be going," Albus Dumbledore announced, turning toward Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Thank you, Albus," Mr. Weasley said, not moving from his position next to his wife. "Let us know if there is anything we can do." Dumbledore nodded and vanished.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Arthur Weasley's half-hour was up. He stared blankly at his empty living room. Mrs. Weasley had cried herself to sleep, and was now upstairs in bed. Bill and Charlie had both left to ask for time off from work so that they could attend the funeral in a few days. Percy had only come during his lunch break, and decided that he was needed at work, though Mr. Weasley knew his son well enough that he was sure the boy was only trying to keep his mind busy with other things. The twin's were in their old room, though it was rather unnerving as the customary explosions were missing. Ginny too had retreated to her room to cry in private.  
  
Mr. Weasley sat at the kitchen table, sipping on the cup of strong tea he had poured for himself. His attention turned to the window above the kitchen sink.  
  
The current occupants of The Burrow were mourning, as was he. He did not worry about them, though he was sure that they would not soon forget this loss. He worried instead for the two teenagers he could just make out huddled together beneath a tree at the edge of their property. He had loved Harry like a son, but his loss seemed so small when compared to what those two had just had ripped from them.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Molly Weasley entered the bedroom at the top of the stairs and shook its occupants awake. They both woke silently and nodded as they were instructed to get themselves dressed. Mrs. Weasley left, and they disentangled themselves from the sheets and one another's arms. Hermione headed to Ginny's room to get changed, and Ron took out his dress robes for the memorial service.  
  
Hermione put on her dark blue dress robes and gave Ginny a soft nudge in the side, pulling the girl out of her peaceful slumber. She was sleeping soundly again before Hermione made it out of the room. Ron met her in the hallway, and they continued silently toward the kitchen. They watched through unseeing eyes as the rest of the family slowly made their way downstairs, and ate breakfast.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The funeral was a circus. It would have infuriated Ron if he had noticed it, but Ron didn't seem to notice anything. He simply stared through unfocused eyes at the box that would forever hold the body of his best friend. Thoughts passed through his head at random disturbing the eerie silence that had overtaken his mind after Dumbledore gave them the news.  
  
. It's too small. Harry doesn't like small spaces. They remind him of his cupboard.  
  
People gave kind words about the departed. They sang songs about how much better off he was, and how he would be missed, but all went unnoticed by Ron.  
  
The casket was opened, and everyone was allowed to pay their last respects.  
  
. He doesn't have his glasses on. Where are they? He needs his glasses.  
  
The line of people seemed as though it would never end.  
  
. People are staring at him. That always made him nervous. Made. Made. Past tense.  
  
Ron broke. When Dumbledore told him what had happened he didn't cry. When Hermione had broken into tears that evening beneath the tree he didn't cry. While they were planning the funeral he didn't cry. When they opened the casket to reveal his fallen friend he didn't cry. No one was sure what had set Ron off, but he spent the remainder of the service with his head in his hands, his chest heaving with silent sobs.  
  
The funeral ended, and the Weasleys went home. Ron and Hermione climbed the stairs and crawled into Ron's bed. They wrapped their arms around each other, and fell immediately to sleep.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Harry rolled over and attempted to burrow farther into the warm covers surrounding him. He was nearly back to sleep when he got the peculiar sensation that someone was watching him. He opened his bleary eyes to reveal a world of fuzzy white shapes. Hospital wing again. He tried to recall what scrape had landed him there this time, as he groped for his glasses.  
  
They were placed in his hand and he quickly put them on. The smiling face of a middle aged blonde woman came into focus, as did that of a rather stocky older man.  
  
"Hi," the woman said brightly, "You're dead."  
  
A/N There you have it. Not a bad length either considering my average was slowly getting smaller. Tell me what you think! 


	2. Death and Drinking

A/N I really need to get on some sort of schedule so that you all will know when to expect a chapter. I doubt that will happen, so all I can really do is apologize.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Death and Drinking  
  
"Hi," the woman said brightly, "You're dead."  
  
Harry stared at her wide-eyed. This woman must be mad.  
  
"A little subtlety wouldn't kill you, Kori," the man standing next to her said in a gruff voice.  
  
"I like the deer-caught-in-headlights look they get though," Kori argued excitedly.  
  
"Um," Harry wondered if he should interrupt their banter. He decided quickly that his need for answers superceded his need to be polite. "Are you two a bit crazy, by any chance?" he asked. He hadn't planned on dropping all manners, but, then again, it was a fair question.  
  
"No sweetheart. You really are dead," the woman said sweetly as the man nodded grimly behind her.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue only to close it again before ever uttering a word. Memories flooded his mind, and the world was suddenly filled with fire. Flames licked at the three bodies laid out before him as blood red eyes emerged from the burning wall of the Dursley's living room. Harry remembered everything.  
  
He looked up at the pair who had been kind enough to give him a moment to process the truth. "I'm dead," he said matter-of-factly, though his wide eyes betrayed his shock.  
  
Kori knelt beside his bed. Her warm brown eyes looked up into his glistening pools of emerald. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.  
  
Harry avoided the question, not really knowing the answer, and instead turned his attention upward. The ceiling was hidden from his view by the white canopy attached to the bed. The thin posts holding it in place were painted the same stark white as the walls and what ceiling he could see beyond the bed. Two overstuffed white armchairs sat off to one side upon a plush white carpet that stretched across the room.  
  
Harry turned his attention back to the other occupants of the room. They each wore a white robe, though where Kori's tied about her waist with a gold belt the man's were left open, revealing a white dress shirt and slacks.  
  
"Am I in heaven?" Harry asked wearily.  
  
"No," Kori answered.  
  
"Am I in hell?" he asked quickly.  
  
"No," she laughed.  
  
"There are a thousand different words for it, but most here stick with limbo," the man said helpfully.  
  
"How long have I been here. asleep?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not as long as some, longer than most," the man replied less helpfully.  
  
Kori slapped his leg with the back of her hand. "Ignore Nate. He's an idiot," she told Harry. "He gets nervous when it takes very long for a new arrival to wake. You've been out for nearly a week."  
  
Harry had a thousand questions racing through his head but did not get a chance to ask them yet.  
  
"Why don't we leave you alone for a moment? It'll give you a chance to change out of the pajamas and to think on all of this for a minute," Nate suggested, helping Kori to her feet. Harry nodded, and Kori gave a friendly was as they exited the room.  
  
Harry noticed his white silk pajamas for the first time and wondered where they had come from and what he was supposed to change into. He threw back the white linens and the plush white comforter. He dropped his bare feet to the thick carpet and stood, stretching his muscle.  
  
There were three doors leading out of the room. The one Kori and Nate had exited through was on the wall to the right of the bed and there were two on the wall across. Harry walked over and opened the one on the right to reveal a closet. Inside he found a set of simple black robes. He pulled them out assuming that they were for him and moved to the other door. He opened the door and stepped into a clean white bathroom.  
  
Harry stood a few minutes later in front of the fogged up mirror. His shower had been very refreshing, and his mind was starting to catch up with the conversation he had just held. His list of questions was steadily growing, but at least now he was awake enough to comprehend the answers.  
  
He left the bathroom and found Kori and Nate sitting in the bedroom waiting for him.  
  
"Ready to go?" Nate asked, rising to his feet.  
  
"Where?" Harry asked.  
  
"We thought you might like a tour," Kori answered, as she led him out the door. The hallway beyond was nothing like what Harry had expected, which is to say, completely normal. Hardwood floors matched the dark wood of the doors lining either side of the corridor. A small brass number adorned each door. The one he had just shut loosely held the number 42. The faded floral wallpaper was peeling from the wall in places. Nothing was white.  
  
Smiling at the look on his face Kori stated, "The rooms that the new arrivals are put in are done in all white for effect." Harry nodded and continued to follow as they entered a dingy stairwell.  
  
After four flights of stairs they left the stairwell in favor of what appeared to be a hotel lobby. I was completely empty, and for how impressive the room upstairs had been the rest of the building was rather dilapidated. Harry followed Nate and Kori through the glass doors and out into the blazing sunlight.  
  
"Welcome to limbo," Kori said theatrically with a wide sweep of her arm.  
  
They stood on what seemed to be the main street of a town only a bit larger than Hogsmeade. The street, which was lined with various shops, started at the gates of a great white castle, and continued to wind its way out into a vast desert.  
  
Kori and Nate guided him through town, introducing him briefly to the few people they met on the street. They stopped to get something cool to drink at a tiny café around midday.  
  
"You're lucky," Kori commented. "Some wake in the evening. They don't get a chance to look around."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked. "What happens in the evening?"  
  
"When the sun sets you will be taken to where you are supposed to be," Nate explained.  
  
"Where am I supposed to be?" Harry asked with a raised brow.  
  
"That depends," Kori smirked. "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"  
  
"Oh," Harry replied, catching on.  
  
"So everyone here is waiting to crossover or whatever?" he asked, waving a hand in the direction of the café's few patrons and staff.  
  
"Well," Kori shifted nervously, "not exactly. Most of them are residents. It's been a long morning, and I'm sure that you are tired. Nate and I have some errands to run. Why don't we take you back so you can have a nap?" she asked, hurriedly trying to change the subject.  
  
"No thanks," he said brightly, sensing that they were keeping something from him. "I've been asleep for nearly a week. You two go ahead though. I'll just walk around on my own a bit." Harry rose from the table, leaving his guides a bit shocked.  
  
Harry wandered about the small town for nearly an hour. He was just about to head back to the hotel for the nap he had refused, when he met a familiar face, "Cedric!"  
  
Remus Lupin sat in his kitchen staring down at the full glass of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him. Generally speaking, Remus didn't drink, but he was considering taking it up. I just seemed to be the next logical step in his depression.  
  
Ever since Harry's memorial, he hadn't been about to pull himself out of his worst memories. Lily, James, Sirius, Peter's betrayal, his own parents, and now Harry, he had no one left.  
  
Remus had his hand wrapped around the glass when he heard the fire flare up in the next room. Pulling his hand back he rose from his seat and walked to his living room.  
  
"Hello, Albus," he greeted.  
  
"Just the man I was looking for," Albus Dumbledore replied. "I have a proposition for you."  
  
"Thanks, but you're not my type," Remus said tiredly.  
  
"I once again find myself in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Dumbledore continued without acknowledging the younger man's comment. "I was hoping that you would consider taking up the position again."  
  
"I told you when I quit that I'm not comfortable around children anymore. I could have killed someone."  
  
"I have complete confidence that you will do just fine."  
  
"I can't, Albus. I just. can't," Remus said, looking at some spot off in the corner, avoiding the piercing eyes of the aged headmaster.  
  
"Ah," Dumbledore's face fell slightly. "Of course," he turned and threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames. "Do let me know if you change your mind."  
  
Remus went upstairs, his glass of whiskey no forgotten. He lay down upon his perfectly made bed and stared at the ceiling above him. He truly hated Albus. He hated that the man asked him to do things he didn't want to do. He hated the look on the man's face when he said no, but most of all he hated the strong feeling he had that he would be teaching Defense at Hogwarts this year.  
  
A/N Reviews would be greatly appreciated. 


	3. Help and Dinner

Chapter 3  
  
Help and Dinner  
  
"So you finally woke up," Cedric smirked in reply to Harry's surprised greeting.  
  
"Um. yeah. this morning," Harry replied, shaking himself out of his shock.  
  
"Great. Let me give you the tour," Cedric said grabbing Harry's shoulder and leading him back the way he came.  
  
"Thanks, but Nate and Kori already showed me around."  
  
"No, they didn't. They showed you Main Street." Come to think of it they hadn't left the street that the hotel was on.  
  
"What else is there?" Harry asked with genuine curiosity.  
  
Cedric's smile broke into a wide grin, "A whole world. Come on."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Ginny knocked sharply on the door at the top of the stairs. She stepped through as it swung silently open and took in the space that was revealed. Her brother's mess of a room was even more cluttered than it usually was, as it held the majority of Hermione's possessions too.  
  
Ron fell back onto his bed after letting his sister in and went back to staring at his ceiling. Hermione still hadn't raised her head from the book she had propped up against the headboard.  
  
Ginny sighed in frustration. "You could at least acknowledge that I am in the room," she complained.  
  
Ron waved a hand in her general direction, not moving his eyes from the ceiling. Hermione however closed her book and sat up. "What do you need, Gin?" she asked, forcing a pleasant tone of voice.  
  
"I just thought that the two of you might like to know that mom and dad are downstairs right now discussing whether or not you need professional help in dealing with this."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione replied, "We'll be fine. It will just take time." The pleasantness was quickly fading from her voice.  
  
"You will not be fine!" Ginny shouted with tears in her eyes. "You both hide up here all day and avoid everyone. Ron hasn't said a single word since he found out!" Ron raised a single finger in a rude gesture from his new position on his stomach with his head buried in a pillow. "You two are now fine!" Hermione opened her book again and continued where she had left off.  
  
Ginny huffed off at being blatantly ignored, slamming the door shut behind her. The ghoul in the attic took the loud noise from the door as his cue to make as much noise as possible.  
  
"She's right you know," Hermione confessed to the otherwise silent room. Ron didn't move. "We aren't dealing well," they sat in silence for a moment longer. "You only eat when I force you to," she paused again. "Say something."  
  
The silence stretched out for so long Hermione was sure that Ron had refused her request, but minutes later Ron interrupted the passage she was on with a short and quiet statement. "Words seem pointless."  
  
"What about food?" Hermione snapped. "Is it pointless too?"  
  
Ron rose from his position on the bed and began pacing about the room. He stopped and turned to face Hermione. "I'll do something like eat or shower, or I'll think about reading or quidditch, and all that I can think is that Harry will never do these things again. Harry will never fly again. He loved to fly." The last sentence was barely audible, but Hermione must have heard, as she soon replied in a voice that easily told that she was now crying again.  
  
"He is flying, Ron," she said through her tears. "Can't you just see him, spending forever playing quidditch?" A very small smile made its way onto Ron's face. "His mom and dad sitting in the stands with Sirius, cheering him on. He doesn't have the weight to the world on his shoulders anymore. I miss him so much, but in a way I'm happy for him."  
  
Ron's smile melted quickly into a mask of anger. He glared at the girl on his bad for a long moment before opening his bedroom door and quickly descending the stairs.  
  
"Oh yeah," Ginny said from the doorway, "you guys are dealing just fine." Hermione threw a nearby pillow at her, and collapsed back onto the empty bed.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Harry sat at a crowded table in the small kitchen of an old Victorian in what the residents call Southside. He, as well as all of his new found friends, was devouring the best meal he had ever eaten. or maybe it was just that he hadn't eaten in a week.  
  
Cedric had spent the afternoon showing him around The Gate, which was what the small town was apparently named. He had told Harry a bit about the place, and introduced him to all of the friends he had made over the last year.  
  
They started at a small dark shop just off of Main Street. At Cedric's call a large bald man with a graying goatee immerged from the back room. He was tall, and wore muggle blue jeans, a tee shirt, and a black leather vest. He would have looked right at home astride some mammoth motorcycle. He gave Cedric a hearty hello and a handshake before learning Harry's name and giving him the same greeting. The man introduced himself as Fillion Lee Frye, but Harry was to stick with just Frye. Frye was an artist, and after looking at a few of the weapons the man had created, Harry could tell why he chose that title. They were truly beautiful. Frye also happened to be the only resident muggle.  
  
They moved on from there to a small market where they carried on a happy conversation with the young girl, Abby, who was working as a clerk there and the handful of customers who came through. Cedric seemed quite popular, but that wasn't really anything new. It had been like that at school too.  
  
Their tour went on through most of the north end of town, before they crossed Main Street and entered the residential Southside. Cedric led Harry to the quaint little white Victorian he now sat in. Upon arriving there Harry was introduced to the owner, Mrs. Hall, and her daughter, Emmy, who immediately flung herself at 'Cedwic' and demanded to be carried piggyback.  
  
Cedric, Harry, Frye, and neighbor by the name of Jason Tate, Abby, Emmy, and Mrs. Hall finished the meal set before them, and began to clean Mrs. Hall's kitchen as payment for the meal.  
  
They were nearly finished when Cedric excused Harry and himself for the night. "I'll see you guys later. I'm going to show Harry the procession."  
  
"It comes by every night. He'll see it eventually," Frye said as he stacked the last of the newly cleaned dishes on the counter to be put away.  
  
"It's his first night here," Mrs. Hall countered as she tried to wrestle her two year old out of the shirt that had caught the majority of her dinner, " let him watch." Frye shrugged and continued cleaning.  
  
"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Hall," Harry said, grabbing the trash to take out as they left. She gave him a smile and a wink, and Cedric led him out of the house.  
  
"Shouldn't take up long to get there," Cedric commented.  
  
The air had dropped more than a few degrees since they had entered the house only two hours ago, and the sun was creeping closer and closer toward the horizon.  
  
Harry looked around him as they walked, taking in his new surroundings as they head back toward Main Street. All of the buildings looked completely muggle, though a bit old.  
  
A shape one of the rooftops, silhouetted against the sinking sun caught Harry's attention. "What is that?" he asked his companion as he squinted against the light, trying to add detail to the object.  
  
"Sam," Cedric replied as though that cleared everything up. "He's been sitting up there for longer than anyone here remembers. I don't think anyone has ever seen him move. I don't even know what his real name is. We call him Sam because somebody thought he looked like a Samurai."  
  
They reached Main and began walking west. They stopped as the sun disappeared behind the huge white castle, making it look as though the castle were glowing.  
  
The sky quickly faded to black as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, but the castle only got brighter. Hundreds of beautiful white balls of light glided down Main Street and out into the dessert. On of the giant glowing orbs stopped in front of Cedric, and quickly moved on. Another stopped before Harry, and he immediately felt himself immersed in a pleasant warmth that he never wanted to leave. The light was offering him peace like he had never known. He looked over at Cedric. The older boy's expression clearly told Harry that he would be forgiven if he chose to accept.  
  
He really wanted the peace that the light was offering, but he knew that there were still things that were being kept from him, things that he needed to know. He knew he couldn't rest until he knew what they were, and why everyone was so intent on him not knowing.  
  
He reluctantly refused the light's offer and collapsed to the ground gasping as the warmth was snatched away. He lay on the pavement trying to regain control of his breath as he watch the ball of light approach another man down the road. It hovered in front of him a moment before enveloping him whole and moving on.  
  
Cedric helped him to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you home." Harry leaned heavily on Cedric, feeling more than a little drained.  
  
"Isn't the hotel the other way?" Harry asked.  
  
"You can't go back to the hotel now."  
  
"Where am I going to go then?"  
  
Cedric smirked. "You're in luck. I'm in the market for a new roommate."  
  
Harry collapsed onto the bare mattress, perfectly happy with sleeping on it in its present condition. "Would you get up?" Cedric scolded, kicking at the mattress beneath Harry. Harry drug his protesting body obediently from the comfort of the soft bed. Cedric tossed a pillow and case at him and continued digging through the closet. Harry put the cover on the pillow and listened to Cedric mutter about sheets.  
  
"Sheets would be nice," Harry admitted, his voice slurred with exhaustion. "Cold."  
  
Cedric emerged from the closet with his arms full of colorful material. "It'll wear off. For future reference, the quicker you reject the offer, the quicker you bounce back."  
  
They made up the small bed, and Harry was about to climb in when something caught his attention.  
  
"Barbie?" Harry asked as he stared down at the blanket covering his bed.  
  
"Sorry. That's all I have," Cedric shrugged. "They are warm though, so they serve their purpose."  
  
Harry pulled back the blanket and revealed sheets covered in little ponies. He shrugged. They did look warm. He took off his glasses and climbed in. His first day in Limbo had been very long. He was asleep before his head hit the Cabbage Patch covered pillow. 


End file.
